


I'd rather serve a scoundrel.

by ConvenientAlias



Category: The Prisoner of Zenda (1937), Zenda Novels - Anthony Hope
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 11:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18603946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: "Well? No need to gape at me, it's a perfectly good plan."or, Rupert tries really hard to talk Rassendyll into an alliance.





	I'd rather serve a scoundrel.

Rassendyll is incredulous and Rupert is indignant. “Well? No need to gape at me, it’s a perfectly good plan.”

“Maybe if I was half the blackguard you are. Have you any concept of loyalty?”

Rupert shrugs. He knows the concept well enough, he’s just not overly fond of it. What good has Michael ever done him? More than Rudolf, it’s true, but not all that much. “I’m loyal to Michael’s money—if you were king permanently, you’d pay me better.”

He’d have to, or Rupert would tell everyone exactly who Rassendyll was. Or slit his throat. He has little concept of loyalty for himself, but he does know how to keep others loyal; not his fault no one has managed to secure him properly.

“Yes, but… to your country, then.” Rassendyll seems to have decided to educate Rupert. Rupert, now, is starting to feel incredulous. “Michael is… he has his flaws, but at least he’s of the royal house. Pick him or Rudolf—or Flavia, for that matter, though I can’t imagine you care much for virtue so it’s probably a lost cause to take it up—but for God’s sake, you’d put an Englishman on your own throne.”

“Your hair’s as red as Rudolf’s, or any Elphberg’s,” Rupert retorts. “So—and you’ve learned everyone’s names, and you’re running the government just fine, aren’t you? With the help of your lackeys, but.” He shrugs again. “Once they were dead, I would naturally step in to lend a hand.”

“Naturally.” Rassendyll shakes his head. He has settled back in the window seat. There is a lovely breeze blowing. Summer is really a lovely season for adventure. It’s not a bad framework for Rassendyll either, dark wood contrasted with his bright red hair, green grass behind him and a sprinkling of dandelions and violets and buttercups. He really does look poetically noble in a setting like this; and not at all pastoral, by the way, for all the nature in the world can’t erase the austere glistening of his buttons and the embroidery on his coat. No, he’s the poetic prince of the woods, and Rupert would make him a king if he had the brains to accept.

He sits down next to Rassendyll and leans forward. He can paint pretty pictures too. “So. You get the crown—the princess, if you really do want her, though I don’t understand all the fuss—but don’t look at me like that, your Majesty, I mean no offense to your lady love. Pshh… You get the crown and your lovely Flavia, and if the thought of ruling troubles you too much, you’ll have all the help you need so you can… hunt or fish, or whatever play-actors do in their spare time.”

“Of course ruling can’t interest me too much.”

“Well, of course if it does, you’d have just as much power as you like. I only thought I’d offer my assistance, if it intimidates you… but,” Rupert says, now grave, “you’d be king. You’d have all the power in the world—or the country at least—you could do as you pleased. Anything you wanted.”

“And,” he continues, rising to his feet, “don’t talk to me about Michael and Rudolf and all their rights! I don’t see anything wrong with you, as a king. All that talk about inheritance and blood right is really just a bunch of shit, when it comes down to it. It’s about who can become king, really. Once you’re king, it doesn’t really matter. And as long as it isn’t some random ignorant peasant, good Lord, why should I care or anyone care if it’s the great-grandson of a bastard or a refined noble like Rudolf the drunkard? To the extent that I care, I’d rather serve someone I can respect…”

Rassendyll sighs.

“…I respect a clever scoundrel more than a drunk or a bore any day.”

Having finished, he sits down again and crosses his legs, and waits for Rassendyll’s reply. Rassendyll will have a hard time arguing that Michael or Rudolf are good options for kingship when they’ve both proved themselves to be idiots and rascals.

At last Rassendyll says, “Well, you’re very eloquent.”

His tone is light and even, and Rupert wants to curse. Apparently he’s determined not to take this conversation seriously, or Rupert for that matter, even though it’s a perfectly good scheme, and frankly it’s flattering—to Rassendyll—that Rupert’s even giving him a chance at working together. There are men in this kingdom—women too—who would kill to have Rupert give them half this much regard.

As if he can read Rupert’s thoughts, Rassendyll adds, “Is this how you talk to the women you ruin?”

It’s meant to be an insult, clearly, break the truce that Rupert’s laid out between them. Rupert refuses to accept it. He leans closer. “If you view me as a temptation, then you must be tempted.”

Rassendyll laughs. He leans back a little further, and Rupert leans forward a little more, bracing his arm against the window seat.

“There is no reason to say no,” he says, “so don’t. For once, let go of your damn English decency and say yes.”

Rassendyll meets his eyes, and at last his face is serious. Then he puts a hand to the back of Rupert’s neck and draws him even closer, and kisses him on the lips.

The angle is bad, but Rupert knows how to make the best of a bad angle. It’s not a kiss he was expecting, but it’s not entirely unexpected either. He does know how to read a mood. Rassendyll kisses carefully—even in his indecency he’s decent—so Rupert doesn’t press hard, lets him take control. That’s what a man like Rassendyll wants, he wants to be in control of this, wants to seduce rather than be seduced. If Rupert lets him have this, take this measure of dominance, he’ll probably feel a lot better about everything; about Rupert, about the plan. Maybe he’ll say yes.

Rupert inches forward and holds Rassendyll’s waist and waits for him to make up his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 11:18 and I should be working on an essay but instead I played the random prompt game and came up with "There is nothing wrong with you" and decided that instead of writing some h/c (or, you know, working on my essay), it would make a great prompt for Rupert trying his best to corrupt Rassendyll bc yes RuRas.  
> That's my new ship name for them.  
> Comments are much appreciated :)/


End file.
